Aun Existe Amor
by B. M. Reed
Summary: Neville does a lot of contemplation. One-shot.


**Author Note:** Hello! Here I am, starting yet another story. Sorry! Hope you like.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and all related content. These all belong to their respected owners, such as J. K. Rowling.

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If there's one thing I hate, it has to be Valentine's Day.

I mean, come on. Cupids running around Hogwarts bombarding people with stupid songs? Cards, and flowers, and love notes shoved in your face? And what about the people that get left out year after year, sitting alone while everyone around them gushes over their special someone? What about them?

I guess that's what happens to people who aren't cute, or funny, or smart. I'm not smart. I'm not cute. And I'm definitely _not_ funny.

I've dealt with being left out for Valentine's Day at Hogwarts five years now, so this is nothing new. I'm not going to get all whiny over something that I was expecting. This is not a shocker. I'm okay.

I'm okay about this.

I mean, sitting on my bed reading about Turkish Flymangers is just as fun as listening to a horribly written love song sang by a cross-dressing Cupid. Right? Definitely. But really, I'm lonely, and I'm trying to cover it up by sounding extremely cross about the entire ordeal. But that's okay, because nobody is around to notice.

However, I do wonder what you're doing. I wonder if there is some small chance in the universe you're thinking about me, maybe looking round the Great Hall, wondering where I am and why I'm not at dinner. I think there is some sort of possibility at this, because after all I have helped you a lot in Herbology, and I don't think that's a small thing to forget. It's an important class. Herbology is an extremely important topic, and you have done really well because of me.

I'm kind of tired of sitting here. I've been here since break, and that was over two hours ago, and my butt kind of hurts from sitting in the same position all this time. Turkish Flymangers aren't as interesting as one would think, and I want to learn about something more exciting than a plant that digests flies while singing in Dutch. Maybe I'll go outside, and the fresh air will make me feel better about all this love stuff.

As I'm walking outside, I notice that the sun shines in such a fashion that it looks like the grass is almost white. Recently we've had a warm spell that melted all the snow away, which isn't a problem for me, because I don't like cold that much. It brings back memories.

Memories. Sometimes I wish I didn't have them. A person can only take so many nightmares, you know? And then – this is the best – I'll be sitting in the middle of class, or something, and I'll have a freaking epiphany right in the middle of a lecture. Sort of like – "Wait! I think I remember something else about my dad nobody told me about!" kind of thing, but they slam down on me like a ton of heavy spell books except they came from the sky, and not from a person. Am I making sense? Probably not, but that's okay. I'm not here to be all impressive.

I can't remember my parents. I try to trick myself into thinking I do, because they're supposed to be a huge part of my life, they were supposed to raise me and teach me to fly a broom and love me. They were supposed to love me. But they cherished freedom more than themselves, and I understand that. I really do. But if I had a kid I'm not sure I would think anything else was more important than him. To a degree I think that under all my sorrow for their loss, there is a soft coating of bitterness, and I think this makes me an awful person.

My Gran says I think too much. Every time she says it I always wonder what she means. How does one think too much, exactly? Maybe it's because I try to block things out, but instead of succeeding, I fail. Brains are tricky like that. Like, you try to train it to do something but it's impossible to tell yourself what to think, almost. Once you start thinking it, if you tell yourself to stop, it's like telling a kid to stop chewing something that tastes really good and spit it out. Or something. I find this most true when I'm thinking something I don't want to. And I don't like it.

I'm sitting under a tree. This tree is completely hibernating right now, which is fine, but I wish it were summer. Not because I want to leave Hogwarts or anything, but because I want the warm air to engulf me again. I love summer more than any other season. It makes me feel so free inside. It's very difficult to explain, but summer is like my escape from reality. I think this is just fine.

I haven't seen you all day. This has to be the worst Valentine's Day in the history of Valentine's Days. I'm sure I'll survive and all, but it would have been nice if you'd said hullo or something. Maybe you were just busy. And that's okay. I'm fine with that.

The sun is starting to go down. The sky is blues and purples, a discharge of orange. It's beautiful. It makes me want to fly into the sky and never look back, ever.

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Reviews appreciated. Tell me how I'm doing.  
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